


Adaptability

by PekoIsBaby



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Background Yamada Hifumi, But it is The Bad Afterlife so :/, But that is the headcanon that I'm operating under, Dangan Ronpa Spoilers, Gen, He's like MENTIONED, Hell, I also hate her but that's just how it be, I don't mean to attach it to any kind of religion, I love Celeste so much, Implied/Referenced Character Death, It's BARELY referenced, It's barely implied but it's kinda there, Like, Minor Kirigiri Kyoko/Celestia Ludenberg, Personification of Death, She just picked Taeko and then, Taeko is not her deadname I would never, Trans Celestia Ludenberg, Two years later went WHY was I so DUMB, kind of, like a lot of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28824069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PekoIsBaby/pseuds/PekoIsBaby
Summary: Celestia Ludenberg was not expecting to wake up dead.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Adaptability

**Author's Note:**

> This is another "I wrote this for *insert character's birthday* but then didn't post it for months" 
> 
> I'm a coward
> 
> I honestly wasn't gonna post this at all, but then I reread it and decided that I liked it enough to post
> 
> Celeste is a FASCINATING character and I kinda wish I'd delved into her a little more here but eh
> 
> Whatcha gonna do
> 
> Take a shot (of water) every time I say "imperceptibly" or something to that extent, hydrate or die-drate
> 
> Uhhh like I said in the tags the "Hell" in this isn't really meant to be the Christian Hell, but Celeste does refer to it as Hell a couple times, so if that's gonna bother you then maybe don't read this one
> 
> In general a lot of references to death/the concept of dying/eternal punishment/whatever. 
> 
> Also, spoilers for up until chapter 3 of Trigger Happy Havoc, and then kinda referenced/implied spoilers for the rest of the game (i.e. a couple characters that do survive till the end). I'd hate to spoil someone who wasn't finished with the game, so just be careful out there! :D
> 
> I think that's it! Enjoy!

In every person’s life, there is a moment in which adaptability becomes impossible. Where there is nowhere left to go, no place to hide and recuperate, no forced smile to pass off as stability until one can retreat into the safety of the darkness.

For Celestia Ludenberg, that moment came when she woke up in Hell.

Carefully, she dedicated a fraction of her psyche to considering that, technically, she hadn’t ‘woken up’. She’d been dying (she remembered that very well), and then she hadn’t been dying, and then she’d been here. That same piece of her mind was wondering, absently, what ‘Hell’ meant in this context. Was there any religious connotation? Was she going to have free roam, or might she end up trapped in some sort of eternal punishment? Was she even in Hell at all? Certainly, the aesthetic matched some idea of the place - a cold, empty, dark wasteland stretching as far as the eye could see, with pits of dark emptiness dotting the ground and stretching out in all directions, a suffocating heat permeating the air - but it wasn’t exactly fire and brimstone.

The rest of her mind, of course, was occupied by having a meltdown.

Celeste screamed until her throat was raw, tore at her hair and clothes and the cracked reddish earth beneath her feet until she was sure her carefully manicured fingernails would snap right off. Hot tears ripped themselves from her eyes, dragging harsh jagged lines down her cheeks, staining her face with running makeup, ruining every single aspect of her carefully constructed look until she might be unrecognizable. What did it matter? Everything was over. She’d lost. She had been unable to control herself, and she’d paid the price. She was angry, so damn angry, angry at the idiot who’d ruined her plan, angry at the students who’d somehow managed to get their brains together for the briefest hint of a second, angry at Makoto Naegi for being smarter than anyone gave him credit for, and so very angry at Kyoko Kirigiri for perfectly valid and wonderful reasons that she couldn’t quite articulate. She welcomed the anger, let it thrill down her spine and through her hair and into her chest, let it positively consume her.

She stopped crying. Her hands stilled. A ghost of a smile whispered against her lips.

They wanted to call her a monster? They wanted to vilify her beyond recognition? They wanted to _burn her_?

That was just fine.

She’d start a fucking fire.

A dark-haired girl walked through Hell, as though daring anyone or anything to stop her. Her hair was wild, falling out of the carefully-constructed twin drills that floated impossibly around her face. Her clothes were ripped, as though someone had taken a knife (or, perhaps, a metal ring) to the folds and torn until they were in tatters. Her face was stained with thick eyeliner. All of this was in perfect juxtaposition to her demeanor. She walked daintily, with straight and precise posture, stepping over the endless holes in the ground as though she were a small child hopping over puddles in the street. Her expression was cool, composed, the tiniest hint of a smile on her tear-streaked face. She looked positively mad.

_But, then,_ Celestia thought, eyes fixed on a large stone castle on the horizon, _most geniuses often are._

The architecture of the castle was directly up Celeste’s alley: gothic and dramatic, with gargoyles and flying buttresses and imposing, dark structure. Celeste stepped up to the door of the castle and knocked twice, neat raps that reverberated through the wood. After a moment, it swung open. No one was there. She allowed her smile to widen. That was a fun trick. She’d have to ask whoever she met in here how they did it.

She stepped into a long hallway, lit by torches and furnished with smooth red carpeting. Celeste felt, with a healthy sense of shame, her pulse quicken. This was exactly what she had always wanted.

She walked down the hallway and opened the large wooden door at the end, stepping into a throne room.

The room itself was spacious, dark, and, remarkably, ice-cold, so cold that Celeste shivered (completely imperceptibly, but she noticed it herself). Atop the throne, draped in what even Celeste could identify as a ridiculously dramatic pose across the armrests, was a figure. They were shrouded in darkness, nearly imperceivable, only really identifiable as humanoid because of the clear slant of their legs and bend of their arms. Celeste couldn’t see their expression, but it felt like they were smiling.

“Who are you?” The figure stood up as they spoke. Their voice was neither young nor old, neither male nor female, neither strong nor weak, and yet it had an undefinable specificity to it that filled Celeste with dread and gave her the undeniable urge to run. 

Instead, she smiled, pulling her hands into a clasp at the front, the picture of sophistication and poise (minus the ruined clothes). When she spoke, her fake accent was immaculate. “My name is Celestia Ludenberg. And you?”

A snicker. “I have too many names for your fragile human mind to possibly comprehend, my dear.”

“Try me.” Celeste had had a lot of names in her life. Some that fit, some that didn’t, some that others gave her and many that she’d given herself. This being didn’t scare her.

“Mm… the Devil is a popular one, although the concept you’re no doubt familiar with is somewhat skewed… Hades… Hel was a fun one…”

“You are Death?” Celeste summarized. “Or, at least, the keeper of the dead?”

“If that’s how you choose to interpret it, then, yes.” Death stepped closer. “Celestia, correct?”

“You may call me Celeste, if you prefer.”

A humming noise, and then they pulled a book from thin air and began flipping through it. “I don’t recognize you. Or… your name, that is. You aren’t marked to be here.”

Irritation flickered through her, although it only showed in the slight twitch of an eye. After all she’d done, after all she’d worked for, she was still marked in the cosmos under… well, at least, she hoped it was Taeko. Still, she forced a smile. “You don’t see my name because I am not here to join the dead.” Improvising was her strong suit, and an idea was forming in her mind.

“Oh?” Death cocked their shadowy head. “Then why are you here?”

“You could call me… a fan.” Celeste stepped neatly past them and stopped at the throne, trailing a bejeweled finger against the smooth backrest. “I admire those who have control of others, you see. I like to think of myself as not so different from you.”

Death made a sound that might have been laughter. “You? What could you possibly have that’s-“

“Please, hush, I’m trying to explain myself.” In a sudden moment of boldness, Celeste turned around and sat carefully in the throne. It was so cold that she could nearly feel her blood freezing in her veins, but she just looked up calmly (especially since she didn’t think she could die twice). “I admire you, certainly, but I’m not entirely sure I agree with the way things are being run here. Namely, by… you.”

Death scoffed. “You cannot speak to me in that manner. I am millennia old.”

“Exactly!” Celeste agreed. “You, dear, are… woefully out of touch. Which is why I’d like to make you a proposal.”

“A proposal?”

Celeste’s eyes glinted dangerously. “A bet, perhaps? Are you a gambler?”

Yes, it was definitely laughter this time. “Alright, you’ve piqued my interest. What sort of bet?”

“I’m a hobbyist, you see.” She traced the ornate sculpting of the armrest as she spoke. “I’ve been playing poker for a while now, and… well, I like to think I’m rather good. I’d be… very interested in playing a game with you, and I think you’ll enjoy the terms.” She took a breath. “If you win, I come quietly. I let you take my soul, which… no, I shouldn’t say.”

“What?”

Celeste feigned indecision. “You have to promise that you’ll take the bet first. If I tell you, I don’t want you just taking my soul and running off.”

“Alright. Fine. I’ll take the bet, as long as the terms are to my liking.”

Celeste spread her hands. “That is all I ask. Now… what if I were to tell you that my soul is not quite my own?”

“Pardon?”

“I have taken on the souls of thousands throughout my life. Some were alive, some were… less so.” This was a big lie. Even Celeste could see that the chances of this succeeding weren’t exactly high. But she was nothing if not a risk-taker. “The point is, many of the souls that should have been in your care are… well. Not.”

“You’re bluffing.”

Celeste raised a single eyebrow. “Am I? I’d be more than willing to let you go check, but… well, I can’t say I’d sit quietly and wait for you to come back. You have no idea what I could do to this place while you’re gone.”

In bluffing, there is no time in which you can doubt your own lie. A lesser gambler might fear at this point that Death could check on the souls from there, or that they wouldn’t care about the castle, or that one couldn’t have multiple souls (Celeste had no idea if it was within the realm of possibility), or even that Death could tell that they were lying. But Celeste was not afraid. She had utter confidence and conviction laced between every word she spoke.

And, sure enough, Death spoke after a moment of silence. “And if you win?”

“If I win, I take your place.” Celeste allowed the words to sink in. “I think I’d like to be Death. It would certainly be a new direction in my career path, but it seems… enriching.”

“You can’t,” Death said simply. “I have had this task for more time than you-“

“Than I can perceive?” Celeste smiled coldly. “You forget, I house within me souls from generations past. I saw you when you were still young. I remember well the early days of this place. I’ve burned, my dear. I’ve felt death steal upon me, hot and suffocating and thick, and I’ve seen emptiness that you haven’t considered in ages. You hold nothing over me.”

Death stiffened, and for a moment Celestia entertained the idea that she'd actually _frightened_ the being. “One game.”

“That is all I want, yes.”

Finally, the shadowy form smiled (or, at least, Celeste thought they might be smiling). “Fine. Alright. One game. I can’t say I don’t enjoy gambles.”

“I thought you might. Cards?”

And so it was that Celestia Ludenberg, formerly known as Taeko Yasuhiro, sat down to play poker with Death.

The game was one that was achingly familiar to her. Even in death - and her memory _was_ foggier, somehow, like her entire life had been cast into shadow - she knew every move, every potential play, every rule known to man. Her eyes flicked from card to chip to card again.

Bet two more chips.

Death raised it by one.

Celeste’s smile twitched slightly, but she added her chip.

The game continued with no discussion. After a few rounds, Celeste looked down at her cards.

She pressed her lips together, staring at the chip pile.

“…stay,” she said, finally.

Death added two chips to the pile. Softening her grip on her cards ever-so-slightly, Celeste added two, as well.

Death considered. “Two more rounds?”

Celeste stiffened slightly, but otherwise her demeanor didn’t change at all. “That is fine.”

A round passed. Then two. Finally, Death leaned back.

“You’re not bad,” they said. “But you could do well to disguise your hand better.” They laid down their cards: An 8 of hearts, 7 of clubs, 6 of spades, 5 of diamonds, and 4 of hearts. A straight. “I assume that’s game, then?”

Celeste looked down. “You truly played well. It would have been very interesting to lose to you.”

“Pardon?”

“Well,” Celeste said, hiding a smile. “I don’t think there was really any question of the winner. Losing costs me more dearly than it ever will cost you. I haven’t lost a game of poker in… oh, twelve years.” She placed down her hand: A 6 of clubs, a 6 of spades, a second 6 of clubs, a 6 of diamonds, and an ace of spades.

Death froze. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Celeste agreed amiably. “Well, I believe _that’s_ game… and, of course, you have something that belongs to me?”

“Who _are_ you?” Death’s voice was incredulous, shocked, horrified. The truth was sinking in. Ridiculously, Celeste was reminded of Kiyotaka, as he realized that his dear beloved had committed an atrocity. It was a similar aura of dread. She relished it.

“Well, you’d have me in your book as Taeko Yasuhiro, I believe? But I find Celestia fits much better. Don’t you?”

“Taeko…” Death flipped through the book, before stopping. “Oh. You’re… oh. I was wondering when the Hope’s Peak students were going to start coming.” They read a little longer, and then laughed. “Oh. That’s why you wanted poker.”

“I assume you’ve found my… specialty?”

“You’re good.”

“I try.”

Death sighed heavily. “A deal’s a deal. I… you know what you’re doing, right?”

“Oh, yes. I am fully prepared to take over this position. Sooner rather than later, if you don’t mind.”

“You’re really serious about this?”

“Really,” Celeste confirmed. “I have been for longer than maybe even I knew. I think this might be… perhaps not an entirely happy ending, but let’s call it the _right_ ending. For me.”

“Good,” Death said slowly. “You’ll do fine, I think. Take my hand, would you?”

Celeste obliged. Instantly, she felt something shift within her, turning bright and hot against the inside of her skin. Her clothes mended themselves. Her hair snapped back into place. Her makeup rearranged itself until it was as perfect as the morning she’d applied it. Her skin drained of all its warmth, becoming so cold that she could feel it in the air around her. She felt good. She felt _powerful_. Her beauty became almost frightening, too pure, too perfect, like a carefully designed doll. Celeste allowed a smile to spread across her face as she regarded Death, who was going through a change of their own. Slowly, the shadows shrouding their form drained away, leaving a dry, aged skeleton.

Death looked up at her with empty sockets. “I… this was a mistake.”

“I figured something of this sort might happen,” Celeste said, tapping a metal-clawed finger against the throne. Her throne. “You probably have very little time left. But… I do believe there’s a spot somewhere in Hell for you? It used to be mine, so I’m sure it’s more than you deserve.”

“No… no, give me back… I can’t live without…”

“Show yourself out. It would be a terrible pity to watch you die on the floor, and I’d rather not clean up the mess.” Before Death - or whoever this corpse had once belonged to - could respond, their lower jaw began to deteriorate. They tried to scream, but their throat was fast disappearing, too. As Celeste watched in marginally disgusted fascination, the being once known as Death disintegrated, leaving a neat pile of sand in their wake.

“Pity,” murmured Celestia. “I’ll have to sweep later.”

Celeste started with Hifumi. Hearing that he’d managed to get somewhere better than her (despite the situation having actually worked out for the better) grated on her, and, anyway, it was mostly his fault that she’d died at all. She dragged him to her domain, kicking and screaming and begging for her to have mercy. It was a fond memory that she’d likely treasure for generations.

It irritated her that Makoto wasn’t meant to die soon, but she figured it was only a matter of time. Once he died, she’d see if she couldn’t pull him down here, too.

But Kyoko was perhaps the greatest annoyance, mostly because Celeste wasn’t sure what she _wanted_ to do to her. Kyoko understood what it meant to win the game. Celeste couldn’t fault that, no matter how badly she wanted to. Kyoko Kirigiri was another that Celeste would table for years, a thought that she rarely allowed to the forefront of her mind, but also one that never truly left. She occupied herself with other luxuries and joys instead.

Celeste was untouchable. She was cunning. She devised punishments for those that were down there, and delighted in forcing others to carry them out. She found beautiful ghosts in the wasteland and kept them close, finding, in a way, the vampire posse that she’d always dreamed of.

No, it wasn’t quite what she’d wanted. But as Celestia Ludenberg looked out over her domain, her home, her kingdom, and noted with some satisfaction that it was what had once been her birthday…

She figured it was worth adapting to.

**Author's Note:**

> GOD WRITING CELESTE IN HER ELEMENT IS SO F U N 
> 
> YOU GO YOU FUNKY LITTLE LIAR GIRL
> 
> *Ahem* I had to look up the rules of poker for this and I'm still not 110% sure I understand, so roast me if I've broken any rules/done a bad job of portraying the game lmao!! I tried to keep it vague. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!!


End file.
